


a start

by helplesslynerdy



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-11
Updated: 2013-07-11
Packaged: 2017-12-19 05:14:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/879861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/helplesslynerdy/pseuds/helplesslynerdy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ten x Rose, barefoot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	a start

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ABadPlanWellExecuted](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ABadPlanWellExecuted/gifts).



" _Tämä on täydellisestä paskaa!_ "

"...I'm assuming the TARDIS didn't translate that for a reason." 

"You think this is funny!" His head lolls against the pillow. 

She looks up at the ceiling and wonders what she did to deserve this. She might pity him the teeniest bit if he weren't being such a baby.

"Now, now." She pats his shin and then grimaces at how much she sounds like her mum. "Let us have a look." 

He curls back, wincing as the heels of his feet barely brush the couch. 

"Doctor!" His eyes open wide, face frozen. Don't sound like mum. Just...borrowing the tone that he finds threatening. She takes a cleansing breath.That's all. Really. "Can't help you if you don't let me. I promise I'll be careful." 

He clutches a pillow tightly and she swears she hears a whimper as she lifts his ankle. 

"How bad is it?" he whispers behind the pillow. 

"...you don't want to know." She picks up a jar that the TARDIS set forward in the med bay. 

"May I have a lolly first?"

"You're kidding, right?"

"Where is my compassionate Rose?" he moans. "You took pity on a Dalek!"

She side-eyes him before poking him in the side, causing him to jerk up and then cringe. "Might have lost it since you decided that the TARDIS needed a chief dramatist." 

His eyes narrow at her, but he can't help the slightly proud look that the memory brings. She smiles softly at him before unscrewing the jar. As she goes to apply the blue goop, he yelps. "Wait! Are you sure that's the right one?"

"You're the one who went and stepped in that puddle of goo, and you're questioning me?"

"It was your fault!"

Rose had to concede that it had been. They were at Atlantic City in the early 1920s. Gelatinous alien monster trying to eat a few flappers- same old, same old. After traveling the boardwalk, both with shoes in hand, she had a strange urging to steal the Doctor's shoes. She grabbed them and ran down the beach, him hot on her heels. After ducking under a pier, ahead she saw a wire with large bulbous lights swaying in the sea air. He was fast behind her, and she spontaneously threw them over the line. She had often seen tennis shoes hanging from power lines back home, but never knew exactly what the significance was.

Neither did she realize that at that moment she had inadvertently created the trend.

On their way back, after a lot of moaning even though she knew _for a fact_ that he had three more pair exactly alike, he stepped in a steaming, bubbling puddle that the monster had created, burning the soles of his feet. And now here she was with a 900-odd-year-old whinging toddler. 

"I didn't make you step in the bubbling green puddle. You shouldn't have been tickling me, and then you might have seen it." He crosses his arms petulantly as she sets the cap to the jar down. "Now can I do this?"

He nods, face partially hidden by the pillow. As she brings the medicine closer to his foot, he strains back, eyes clenched in anticipation. 

"There, all done."

He tentatively opens one eye. "Already?"

She screws the lid closed and wipes her hands on a damp flannel. "While you were making a show of preparing yourself, I had already started. Numbing factor, I would assume. But you can't stand on them for an hour."

He throws an arm across his face, the picture of male moping. "Now what am I going to do lying here for an hour?"

"Well," she taps her finger against her chin. "Could always get you back for pestering me." She wiggles her fingers ominously in the direction of his ribs. "Especially since you can't run away this time." 

His eyes widen in alarm before that cocky smile spreads. He narrows his eyes, challenging her. Triple-dog-daring her. "Ooooh, run from you, Rose Tyler? Never." 

The grin on her face begins to disappear, a straight line taking its place as she slowly leans back from him. That was _all_ he ever did. _Here, Rose Tyler, have a random fact about my past- but don't you dare ask further about it unless you want an impromptu trip to a planet where you'll be running so hard from the acid-spitting koala-looking things that you will forget what you were asking me about in the first place._ Especially after him dropping the, “I was a dad, once,” bomb. Without ever elaborating.

"Rose?"

She hasn't realized that she zoned out on him until his voice calls her back. She debates on getting up and dropping the whole thing. Don't argue with the designated driver and all that.

She turns back to him, and sees his brow furrowed in confusion. 

No.

He can't run forever. 

"You always do."

His right eyebrow arches. "...what?"

"Run from me." 

His eyes darken the slightest bit before his plastered grin reappears. "Of course I do. Ticklish, me. And you are ruthless." He waggles a finger in her general direction. "Especially threatening to attack an invalid. No shame."

He's trying. Desperately. Practically begging for her to drop it. But if there's anything that she knows she is capable of, it's persistence. "You know what I mean." His mouth shuts with an audible click and his eyes dull again. Yet, she has to keep on. "You keep saying these things, you keep bringing up bits of your past or talking about...us," he turns away at that, "and you never actually say _anything_. You keep running from me like that will make it all disappear." She scoots closer, trying to draw his line of sight back to her. "But you wouldn't be bringing this stuff up if, deep down, you didn't want to talk about it."

He sets his jaw, still not looking at her. "I _don't_ want to talk about this now."

"Then when?" 

At that, he finally locks eyes with her, gaze unwavering. After several heartbeats, she rises to her feet. "That's not fair, and you know it." Weary. She heads for the door to go...she doesn't even know where. Just not here.

As she reaches the door, she hears a low "Wait."

Her hand rests on the jamb, but she doesn't turn.

"I- It's much easier to forget. To let my memories lie dormant. To let them sleep. Then it doesn't hurt as much."

She turns back to him, but he's fiddling with the edge of his tie, not looking at her. "Know who you're reminding me of? Lumic."

His eyes shoot to hers, mouth working but without a peep coming out. He then lets his head fall back to the pillow, chuckling mirthlessly. "Always criticize in others what we see in ourselves, right?"

She walks back into the room and kneels on the floor near his head. "But you don't have to make his mistakes, Doctor."

"Almost a thousand years. A thousand years, most of which I'd really rather forget. Can't possibly talk about it all."

She smirks a little. "Could see you trying."

He rolls his eyes.

"'M not asking you to tell me every single little detail. Just...quit stopping and acting like you didn't say anything. If you tell me something, finish it. That's all I'm asking."

He lets out the breath he's been holding. "So demanding."

Eyes still locked on his, her fingers dart towards his ribs, catching him unaware. He jolts before dissolving into giggles. 

A short tussle later- a draw- they both try to calm their breathing. She is still kneeling beside the sofa, elbow beside his pillow supporting her head. Her other hand idly traces the swirly pattern on his tie. His hand comes up to cover hers, thumb sliding along the line of her knuckles. She looks up to find his face much closer to hers than she expected.

Breathing?

Yeah. Breathing's good.

His eyes look back and forth between hers, down to her mouth and quickly back up. "As if you'd ever let me run far. Even if you were in another universe, I'd never escape you."

His hand is at her cheek, thumb brushing the apple of it like it had in that church, oh, such a long time ago. Except now he is drawing her face down just as he is leaning up. His lips press tentatively to hers, seeking permission. A second later she pulls back. 

What is he at here? More distraction? 

As she searches his face she sees that for once, his eyes are unguarded. 

Answering all her questions. 

Telling her all that, deep down, she knows.

She can't help the silly smile that starts tugging at her lips. 

He looks relieved before he beams like a loon- but she just wipes it off with another kiss. This time there’s no hesitation. All _let’s_ go and supernovas and rainbows and there might be a small choir in there. Not that she would ever admit any of this. Nope. He was insufferable enough as it was. Not going to tug his hair and encourage. Well, maybe a little. 

After finally releasing his bottom lip- serves him right for all that pouting- she burrows her face into his oxford. No suit jacket, thankfully. She lifts her head briefly to lean closer and then winces as her legs protest at how long she's been kneeling back on her legs and feet. She settles back, bum on floor, and he scoots closer to the edge to be nearer to her. She lays her head back on his chest, and he begins to comb his fingers through her hair.

She is almost dozing when he blurts, "Susan." She lifts up to look at him, resting her chin on his chest.

"What?"

"She was the first person traveling with me."

"Ah." She bites her lip against the million questions about to burst forth. Easy does it. "Of course it was a girl," she teased.

He chuckles softly. "She was my granddaughter."

She really doesn't want to think about the look her face must have right now. "Grand...blimey." He winces, and she quickly amends, "Just let me put it into perspective, all right? Besides," she smiles innocently, "it's not every day that I can say I was just snogging someone's grandfather."

He sticks his tongue out at her before gathering her up into a hug, laughing.

Of course she can roll with it.

And of course it didn't all change that evening. Even after he was free to run again.

But it was a start.

**Author's Note:**

> I don't own _Doctor Who_ or its brilliant characters.


End file.
